


Mixed Signals

by Impala_Chick



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Drinking, First Time, Getting Together, Hotel Sex, M/M, Morning After, Post-Canon, Power Imbalance, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7369246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate asks Brad to serve as his escort for a trip up to Northern California. The assignment is easy, but reading Nate is a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixed Signals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/gifts).



> Thank you Sandrine for requesting GK. I've been away from this fandom for too long and you gave me the opportunity to dive back in.
> 
> Also, HUGE thank you to Oddishly for all the valuable feedback and for whipping this into shape. Check out Oddishly's GK fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly/works?fandom_id=3165). Let's keep this fandom alive!

FROM: nfick@usmc.mil  
TO: bcolbert@usmc.mil

Sergeant:  


I trust this email finds you well.  


I have a special assignment for you, should you accept. I’m in need of an escort on a drive up to Northern California next weekend. Please let me know if you are available. 

Respectfully,  
Fick

\-----------

FROM: bcolbert@usmc.mil  
TO: nfick@usmc.mil

LT:  


Where to?

V/R,  
Brad

\------------

FROM: nfick@usmc.mil  
TO: bcolbert@usmc.mil

It’s need to know.

\------------

FROM: bcolbert@usmc.mil  
TO: nfick@usmc.mil

Roger that. I am available.

\------------

The more Brad had thought about the “special assignment”, the more he had dreaded it. Being next to Fick, _right_ next to him, with no maps to review or missions to prepare for – what would they talk about? All of their exchanges stateside had been formal and brief. Fick was still an officer, so Brad technically was going to have to be on his best behavior. Brad hoped that at the very least, Fick didn’t force him to listen to some crappy modern pop.

Turns out, Brad needn’t have worried. At least, not about the music.

At 0800 on Friday Brad pulled up on his motorcycle, and Fick opened the door, his hair still slightly damp like he had just gotten out of the shower. Fick looked young and demure and innocent in his khaki shorts and an olive green Marine T-shirt, which was so unlike the way he looked in Iraq that Brad wasn’t sure he would have recognized him if he hadn’t come to pick him up at his home address. Fick walked out of his house carrying a large brown box.

“Nice bike.” Nate smiled and nodded at Brad’s bike before he put the box in the back of his Chevy. 

Brad tried not to grin like a proud parent. 

“Thanks, sir.”

“You’re driving, Brad.” Nate tossed Brad the keys. Once they hit the road, they settled into companionable silence.

Fick had downloaded a bunch of NPR podcasts for the 8 hour drive. He had also packed water, Gatorade, and trail mix. And he didn’t talk much, just the occasional insightful comment on the podcast. 

When the current podcast on the possibility of mandatory tipping at restaurants ended, Fick scrolled through his phone. Brad glanced over to look at Fick, whose tongue was poking out of his mouth as he scrolled. Brad quickly turned his eyes back to the road before he was caught looking.

“I think you’ll like this one, Brad. It’s about the changing tech of drones.” Fick queued it up, and Brad nodded. Fick’s plump lips seemed to fill Brad’s peripheral vision. At least those hadn’t changed after Iraq. 

The road stretched out in front of them as they both settled into silence and listened to the podcast for a while. Brad enjoyed the intellectual discussion concerning the advancement of drone tech, but then a guest came on who talked like a total fucking moron and Brad needed to break the tension.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in the package, sir?”

“You know I can’t, Brad.” Fick said it with a smile. He must have known Brad was teasing.

“Can I at least get the location now?”

“Sure. Lawrence Livermore National Lab,” Fick said before he popped an M&M into his mouth.

Brad had figured there were only three likely locations they would be driving to, and Lawrence was one of those. So he said nothing, and waited for Fick to continue.

“We’ve got a hotel tonight and Saturday night. Then, we drive back Sunday with our return package.”

“Oh, a return package, you say?” Brad said, curious.

“I’m not telling you anything else.” Fick smiled at him, and Brad couldn’t help but smile back. 

A little over halfway to their destination, Fick required some sustenance beyond just peanuts and raisins, since he had picked the last of the M&Ms out of the bag. Brad made a mental note that Fick liked chocolate. A recon Marine never knew what Intel would end up being usable. Brad let Fick pick the fast food joint, just to show him how much he appreciated his quiet company. Brad even attempted to pay for the food, but Fick wasn’t having any of that. Fick picked up the whole tab, winked, and said the Marine Corps was actually paying anyway.

After In ‘N Out, Brad pulled the Chevy back out onto the 5. Before Nate picked another podcast, Brad tried for actual conversation. 

“Sir, have you put your time in Iraq behind you?”

“You don’t have to call me sir in my own truck.” Fick put his phone down before continuing. “I haven’t, really. Not yet, anyway. You?”

“I get on my bike and I ride. And I try not to get too intellectual about it all.” Brad forced a smile, not sure why he had even brought it up. Looking to Fick for affirmation was probably just a well-honed reflex, another thing that hadn’t changed after Iraq. Fick didn’t answer for a little while, but he chewed his bottom lip like he was thinking.

“I might write a book,” Fick finally said.

“Ya? I trust that it wouldn’t be some radically doctored fabrication that completely downplays our righteous warrior ways.” Brad saw Nate roll his eyes.

“Feels like I should memorialize it, since Reporter did.” Nate looked out the window, avoiding eye contact.

Brad thought about how his time in Iraq had already been examined under several different microscopes. He’d had several phone conversations with Reporter about getting the book off the ground, and he’d spent a lot of his time stateside writing about Iraq and debriefing and teaching younger Marines.

Instead of saying any of that, Brad said, “I’d read it.”

Maybe Fick could teach him something new.

\------------

At the hotel, after they had dropped off the package, Brad waited in the truck for Fick to get the room keys. The place looked nice from the outside, but Brad’s standards were pretty low. If there was a real bed and decent wifi, Brad would be just fine. 

Fick walked out of the sliding doors of the hotel lobby, and Brad watched him walk closer with a bright smile.

“Brad, I hope you brought a nice outfit.”

“You mean, nicer than these board shorts?” Brad gestured.

Fick laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that made Brad feel like he had achieved something.

“We’re going out! We have 24 hour liberty.” Fick was full of surprises.

When they got to the hotel room, Brad let Fick pick which bed he wanted. He chose the one closest to the door. Fick went to the bathroom to freshen up, while Brad threw on a white button up and some jeans.

Fick emerged from the bathroom in well-fitted jeans and a blue button up that perfectly matched his eyes. Brad couldn’t help but stare.

“Let’s go, Marine. I’m hungry!” Fick slapped him on the shoulder and then stood entirely too close while Brad scrolled through a list of local restaurants. 

They ended up at a little Mexican joint, and the two of them sat at the bar. Fick graciously agreed to drive, so Brad proceeded to have a few beers before they ordered. That was his first mistake.

His second mistake was getting too comfortable, but sitting next to Fick felt natural. They gossiped about Person and Gunny and the rest of the guys, they talked about the latest Marine fuck up, and they made fun of the drunk girls at the end of the bar. 

Fick’s smile was wide and genuine, and he had his body almost completely turned towards Brad. Their knees kept bumping, but neither of them made an attempt to change that. Fick’s eyes lingered on Brad’s lips before he took another sip of his iced tea, and Brad started to feel emboldened. 

After the bartender cleared their empty taco plates, Brad swigged from his beer and considered Fick.

“You haven’t said ‘I’m assured of this’ once this whole trip, you know?” Brad pointed out.

“Well, I’m not assured of much these days. Okay, that was way darker than I intended.” Fick smiled and bit his lip. Brad leaned forward slightly, and Fick didn’t move back.

“We haven’t talked much since Iraq,” Brad said.

Fick looked at Brad through his lashes, but his smile didn’t falter. 

“Maybe there’s not much to say?” 

“Why’d you invite me this weekend? There are plenty of other Marines out at Pendleton.”

“Brad -” Fick warned. His smile disappeared.

Brad should have reminded himself that he was supposed to be on his best behavior, but somehow his brain did not catch up with his mouth.

“Is this a date, sir?” 

“Christ, Brad. This is work. What the fuck?” Fick immediately replied. His eyes were blown wide, like he had been cornered. His hands were balled into fists on top of the bar, but he didn’t move to get up.

_Shit._

Brad immediately tried to backpedal.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying, right? Just fuckin’ with you. I’m going to take a piss.”

Brad could not get away from that bar fast enough. He wasn’t even that drunk, but he had drastically miscalculated. He splashed water on his face in the bathroom, and felt the weight of the car keys jiggling in his pocket. He was going to have to go back out there eventually. Marines didn’t hide in bathrooms.

Brad plastered on his widest smile and walked back out the door. Fick was still seated at the table, with a fixed stare and his mouth in a firm line. He looked up when Brad came back, but didn’t smile.

“I’m still your superior officer.” Fick crossed his arms over his chest.

“I know. Fick, can we just drop this? I can get another room tonight and we can just finish this job.”

“I don’t want you to get another room,” Fick said, cutting him off.

Brad was thoroughly confused. Nate stood up from the bar and pulled some bills out of his pocket to put on the table.

“Let’s go.” Fick’s tone left no room for discussion. 

Brad handed Fick the car keys and they drove back in silence.

Once inside the room, Fick hung the “do not disturb” sign on the door handle and shut the door. Brad didn’t feel like he was in trouble anymore, but he also didn’t feel comfortable.

“How drunk are you? On a scale from 1 to 10.”

Brad cocked his head in contemplation. He clearly did not have all his wits about him, but he didn’t feel out of control.

“6.”

Apparently that was a satisfactory answer, because Fick took a deep breath and plunged on.

“What about when I’m not an officer? What about when I’m not a Marine? You aren’t going to look at me the same.”

_Oh._

“Does this mean you’re interested?” Brad’s mouth was still not caught up with his brain.

Fick slumped onto the bed, looking disappointed.

“Fick, you’re thinking too much. Just ask for what you want.” Brad didn’t come any closer, but he watched Fick’s face intently. 

“I’m not re-upping,” Fick said, frustrated. 

Brad understood that Fick was worried Brad would judge him harshly for his decision. The concern flattered Brad, but Fick getting out of the Corps wasn’t a surprise. And it sure as hell wouldn’t change the way Brad viewed Fick. Brad had jacked off to Nate’s pink, swollen lips and bright blue eyes more than once in the middle of the fucking desert all those months ago. And Brad was a creature of habit, if nothing else.

“So what? We’ll handle that when we get to it. Once a Marine, always a Marine.”

Fick let out a frustrated noise and got up from the bed.

“Quit calling me that.” Fick was the one to step up into Brad’s space. Brad didn’t consider Fick small, by any means. But now Fick seemed to somehow loom over him. He crowded Brad towards the wall.

“Calling you what?” Brad let Fick stare him down.

“Fick.” He spat it out like it was a curse and kept advancing on Brad.

“You said ‘sir’ wasn’t acceptable.” Brad countered. Brad’s back was against the wall now. It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room and Brad was having a hard time breathing.

“My name is Nate. You’re Brad, and I’m Nate. That’s it.” Fick punctuated Brad’s name by poking him in the chest. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were looking for a fight.” 

Nate squared his shoulders. His face was determined, like he was mentally preparing for something. Right when Brad decided he was going to push back, Fick caught Brad’s bottom lip between his teeth. Brad tipped forward as a result, and Fick was able to kiss him full on the mouth.

“I’m supposed to be the drunk one,” Brad murmured against Fick’s lips. _Nate’s_ lips. That would take some getting used to.

“Shut up,” Nate groaned. He ground his semi-hard cock up against Brad’s thigh and Brad grabbed his hips to pull him as close as possible. 

Then a thought caught up with Brad, and he stopped moving.

“What?” Nate implored.

“Have you done this? With a guy?” Brad needed to know.

“No?” Nate looked worried, like he wasn’t sure why Brad was asking. 

A few minutes ago Nate made him feel like a pervy fuckin’ scumbag and now, Nate’s telling him that Brad is his first. Luckily, Brad can make do.

“Does that change anything, Sergeant?” Nate dropped his arms, unsure.

“I’m just Brad, remember?” Brad said. He pushed forward to capture Nate’s mouth. If Brad was only at a drunk 6 before, he was at a drunk 9 now. 

Brad reached around to palm Nate’s ass. Nate moaned, his mouth against Brad’s ear. Brad stumbled forward, and pushed Nate onto the nearest bed. Nate’s bed.  


Brad clumsily shimmied Nate’s pants down over his hips and Nate’s erect cock jutted out from his boxers.

“Fuck,” Brad breathed. Brad leaned forward, eager to lick Nate’s cock. But he stopped and looked up at Nate.

“Permission to proceed?” Brad asked.

Nate was breathing heavy already, his lips parted like he was parched. 

“Permission granted, sergeant.”

Brad wasted no time and sucked Nate’s cock into his mouth, his tongue laving at the head. Nate moaned and the sound of him strung out like that made Brad suck harder. Nate sat up on his elbows and put one of his hands in Brad’s hair. 

“Yeah, Brad,” Nate said as he bucked his hips up. Brad gagged on Nate’s cock and he brought his hand up to grip the base of Nate’s cock. He stroked in a steady rhythm while he licked at the head. 

Brad could tell Nate wasn’t going to be able to control himself for long by the way his hips kept bucking up erratically. Brad felt proud to be the one to make Nate fall apart. 

Nate’s fingers tightened in his hair and then he moaned low and guttural. His come hit the back of Brad’s throat, and Brad took it like a champ. 

Nate fell back against the bed, and Brad crawled up to lay next to him. He stared at Nate, all blissed out. It was a good look on him. 

After a minute, Nate sat up and rolled on top of Brad. He reached down to unzip Brad’s jeans, a nervous smile on his face.

“Nate, Nate. ‘m drunk. It’s not going to work right.”

“You don’t want me to?” Nate kept unzipping Brad’s jeans. Brad’s cock was leaking all over the place, but he knew his cock well enough to know how this would end up.

“Trust me, I want to see your lips on my cock. But it will be better when I can come.”

“Roger that.” Nate stripped off Brad’s clothes and tugged appreciatively at Brad’s cock before he laid down next to him, his nose pressed against Brad’s cheek.  


Brad didn’t remember anything after that.

\------------

Brad woke up to an empty bed. He wasn’t surprised. He _was_ surprised that he didn’t feel hungover. 

As he sat up, he realized the shower was on. At least Nate hadn’t ditched him. He sat against the headboard and started scrolling through his phone as he waited for Nate to reemerge from the bathroom. 

Brad replayed the scene at the restaurant, when Nate had all but turned him down. Maybe Nate was going to have some gay freakout now. Maybe Nate was going to hurl insults and blame Brad for this whole thing. 

Even with thoughts like that rolling around in his head – a Marine had to be prepared, after all – he couldn’t help but feel like it would be worth it.  
The reality isn’t always better than the fantasy, but when it is, you’ve got to hold onto that shit. 

Nate emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low on hips.

“Morning, sunshine.” Brad said cheerily. 

Nate didn’t say anything, and Brad braced himself. Then Nate dropped the towel, all traces of nervousness from the night before completely gone.

“I think I owe you, Sergeant.” Nate climbed onto the bed and pulled back the covers. 

“You don’t have to.” Brad’s cock was already betraying him, though.

“I want to,” Nate replied. His intense blue eyes gazed at Brad, and Brad knew he wasn’t just talking about sex.

“You’ve been hard to read on this trip,” Brad pointed out, just to see what Nate would say. Brad already knew what his answer to the unspoken question was going to be. Nate could have today, Nate could have this weekend. Hell, Nate could have as long as he wanted, if Brad was being honest.

“I apologize for my mixed signals. This is new for me. But I’m willing to keep trying.” Nate’s eyes were begging Brad to understand.

“Fair enough. But I’ve got to say, dragging me all the way out here to the godforsaken hippie dicksucking commune that is Northern California wasn’t entirely necessary.”

Nate laughed. It was the happiest sound Brad had ever heard.


End file.
